Raise a Glass to St. Patrick in Annapolis

Where: Downtown Annapolis and environs.

Why: The drink o' the Irish, leprechaun fashions and a cabbage diet.

How Far: About 34 miles, or about 45 minutes by car from Washington.

Maybe it's the port, or the Colonial feel, or perhaps the Guinness on tap. Whatever the reason, Annapolis attracts the Irish.

"The attitude of the Irish fits in with the attitude of Annapolis: warm hospitality, low-key lifestyle and enjoying your neighbors," says Jeff Holland, director of the Annapolis Maritime Museum, which is housed in the former site of the McNasby Oyster Co.

Annapolis turned green centuries ago. In 1688, wealthy Irishman Charles Carroll immigrated to Maryland to avoid persecution for being Catholic. Nearly 100 years later, his descendant, Annapolis resident Charles Carroll (yep, same name), signed the Declaration of Independence. Today, about 10 percent of Annapolis residents boast Irish ancestry, but, of course, on St. Patrick's Day, everyone's Irish.

While U.S. flags flap throughout the Maryland capital, the green, white and orange of Ireland wave outside Celtic Treasures on Main Street. The Irish-owned store sells such St. Patrick's Day party essentials as green boas and tartan ties, as well as soda bread mix for the morning after. Down the street toward City Dock is Avoca Handweavers. The retailer was established in an Emerald Isle village in 1723, and the Annapolis store is its only outpost abroad. Items for sale include kilts for wee ones and Claddagh jewelry symbolizing love, friendship and loyalty.

On St. Patrick's Day, Saturday, West Street will be crawling with pubgoers. Say "Slainte!" (pronounced SLAWN-cha) at Rams Head Tavern, which will dye its beer green and feature Irish and rock bands all day and night, inside and out. Not up for a liquid lunch? Galway Bay restaurant cooks up corned beef and cabbage, as well as Guinness-fried oysters, an Ireland-Maryland fusion dish. "We're Irish enough; we don't do anything special" for the holiday, manager Niall Gilsenan says in a thick Irish brogue. "It's the only day we can be ourselves."

-- Samantha Cleaver